The Decimators
armgimpeh
Join Date: 2002-12-14 Member: 10783Members
Join Date: 2002-12-14 Member: 10783Members
<div class="IPBDescription">Revisited</div> Hello all, I once posted up a story about a group of Marines that I called the Decimators. I have since rewritten my story about this group and have decided to post the first few chapters and the prologue here.
<b>Prologue</b>
The hulking battleship slid silently through space, its crew lying wide-mouthed and dead. They had been caught unawares by the Kharaa, who had swept upon them like an unrelenting tide, tearing apart the crewmembers with unrivalled ferocity. Only when the ship was three days from TSA space was it picked up on the scanners.
“Commander, we’ve picked up the Storm Hammer, sir,” the Ensign said stiffly. The Commander looked up from the news in mild interest. “It’s not sending out the correct transponder codes, sir.” The Commander tossed the small display onto the table and strode over to the Ensign.
“Have you hailed them?” he enquired. The Ensign nodded.
“Yes, sir, I’ve hailed them twice, sir,” the Ensign affirmed. Stroking his chin, the Commander thought for a few moments.
“Hail them again, we’ve been having a few storms recently, it may have interfered with the communications,” he said, although he sounded sceptical. The Ensign did as he was ordered and hailed the battleship, the Storm Hammer. There was no reply, only static.
“What shall we do, sir?” the Ensign asked, looking up at the Commander fearfully. Settling back on his heels, the Commander let his eyes take on a stony look.
“Inform Central Command that the Storm Hammer has fallen under enemy control,” the Commander uttered tonelessly.
<b>Prologue</b>
The hulking battleship slid silently through space, its crew lying wide-mouthed and dead. They had been caught unawares by the Kharaa, who had swept upon them like an unrelenting tide, tearing apart the crewmembers with unrivalled ferocity. Only when the ship was three days from TSA space was it picked up on the scanners.
“Commander, we’ve picked up the Storm Hammer, sir,” the Ensign said stiffly. The Commander looked up from the news in mild interest. “It’s not sending out the correct transponder codes, sir.” The Commander tossed the small display onto the table and strode over to the Ensign.
“Have you hailed them?” he enquired. The Ensign nodded.
“Yes, sir, I’ve hailed them twice, sir,” the Ensign affirmed. Stroking his chin, the Commander thought for a few moments.
“Hail them again, we’ve been having a few storms recently, it may have interfered with the communications,” he said, although he sounded sceptical. The Ensign did as he was ordered and hailed the battleship, the Storm Hammer. There was no reply, only static.
“What shall we do, sir?” the Ensign asked, looking up at the Commander fearfully. Settling back on his heels, the Commander let his eyes take on a stony look.
“Inform Central Command that the Storm Hammer has fallen under enemy control,” the Commander uttered tonelessly.
Comments
“Good morning gentlemen,” the Chief said to his assembled Captains. “Just after midnight, Earth time, the initial contact station in the Jobia sector detected the Storm Hammer drifting off course.” There were a few murmurs of surprise within the assembled group. The Storm Hammer wasn’t long out of the dock and it was commanded by one of the best Commanders this side of the Ariadne Arm.
“You said drifting,” one of the Captains said. The Chief nodded.
“That’s right, there’s no radio contact and she doesn’t seem to be firing any thrusters. At this point, we have to assume that she’s infested.” The Chief barely even noticed the silence that had descended over the room. “Here’s the problem. She’s drifting at least three days away from any TSA base, but only one day away from Helios and it looks like she’ll run right into the planet.” Helios had a large staging base, one of the last bases Marines saw before heading out to battle the Kharaa.
“What do you propose, Chief?” Captain Wheeler asked, although he already knew the answer. The Chief looked at him and sighed.
“Well, Alex, I was hoping your boys might be able to take care of matters,” the Chief said eventually. Alex Wheeler nodded in affirmation.
“That’s fine, sir, I’ve got a team assembled and ready to go,” Alex replied. He commanded the Decimators, who had the other, less well-known, nickname of the Suicide Squad, although no one dared to say that to their faces. They were made up from men who had lost their entire families and didn’t have anywhere else to go. They had a burning, deep hatred of the Kharaa and would do anything to see them wiped from the face of existence.
“We’re not sure how many Kharaa you’ll be facing, Alex,” the Chief said, which was the norm for any mission that the Decimators took part in. Alex merely shrugged.
“When do we ever?” he asked and left it at that. There was an appreciative murmur throughout the other Captains, before the meeting moved onto other points. As the Chief droned on, Alex tuned him out, choosing to study the mission details on his own monitor. The Storm Hammer had only been commissioned two years previously and had been heralded as the first in a new line of the fleet.
‘Oh, how the mighty do fall,’ Alex quipped sarcastically, although he kept his thoughts to himself. He had fought the Kharaa long enough to know that all the fancy gadgetry in the world wouldn’t save you if you weren’t prepared to get your hands dirty. As far as he knew, he was the only Captain who would accompany his men on their missions; the other Captains preferred to stay on the safety of their ships, letting their Commanders take the fall if anything went wrong.
“Well, that wraps things up for today,” the Chief said jovially. Some of the Captains began talking amongst themselves, but Alex just stood up and walked out of the briefing room. It only took him a few minutes to locate his transport and start it up. He’d be back at the Haemonculus in no time.
“How’d it go, sir?” O’Hara asked as Captain Wheeler stepped off the shuttle and onto the TSA Haemonculus. He looked up and smiled at the Irishman.
“Boring, as usual. We do have a mission though, the Storm Hammer. Looks like she’s been bitten and needs some treatment,” Wheeler replied. O’Hara nodded, barely able to contain the grin that was bound to erupt on his face any second. “Any excuse to try out that new grenade launcher of yours, eh?” Wheeler said with a smile as he removed his flak jacket.
“Aye, sir,” the big Irishman said with a grin. “I’ve been doing a bit of modification. I think I’ve made her a bit better, sir.” Wheeler crossed the room and picked up his manifest.
“Any outstanding issues that I should be made aware of, O’Hara?” Wheeler asked, skimming over the manifest. Wheeler knew from the manifest that all of the loading had been done correctly. When he asked about outstanding issues, he meant he wanted to know what his crew had been up to.
“Well,” O’Hara said hesitantly. Wheeler looked up with an arched eyebrow. “Johnson might have… well, he might have accidentally brained one of Cooper’s Marines sir, but it was the Marine’s fault.” Cooper was another of the Captains who had been at the briefing. Wheeler watched his sub-Commander.
“How much damage did he do?” Wheeler enquired. O’Hara looked at the metal floor.
“Broke his jaw, sir,” O’Hara said. “But like I said, it was the fault of the Marine. He said we’re nothing more than an outfit of cowboys, riding on the success of the TSA.”
“Double Johnson’s food rations for the week,” Wheeler said with a smirk. “Can’t have the TSA thinking that they can best the Decimators, eh O’Hara?” O’Hara saluted crisply, although he was grinning like a cat who’d got the milk, before turning on his heel and nearly running out of the room. O’Hara was one of the best sub-Commanders Wheeler had, but the man was damnably excitable. Setting the manifest down where he had found it, Wheeler also left the room. He’d been away from the Haemonculus for four days and he wanted to make sure that everything was still running ship-shape.
The Haemonculus glided through space, on her way to intercept the Storm Hammer. There was an air of anticipation on board, as the crewmembers prepared themselves for what was to come. Alex sat in the Captain’s Chair, idly leafing through several reports of Kharaa activity in the outlying systems, seeing if the Storm Hammer was going to hit any other areas of Kharaa infestation before they got to it. Thankfully, the reports read that the systems around the Storm Hammer were free from infestation, although that gave an underlying current of urgency to the mission.
“We’re within scanning range of the Storm Hammer now, sir,” one of his pilots said briskly. Wheeler stood up and looked at the large monitor that was hung at the front of the bridge.
“Give her a full thermal scan and put the results up on the screen,” he ordered. He only had to wait a few seconds for his order to be completed. An image of the Storm Hammer was called up, before being coloured in varying colours, from blue to red. With a glance at the image in front of him, Alex could tell that there was one hive on the Storm Hammer, although from the looks of it, there was another on the way. They’d have to hit hard and fast if they were to manage to defeat the Kharaa here.
“Sound general alert,” Wheeler commanded, waiting until the initial siren had died down to continue his orders. “I want full deployment. The Storm Hammer will not be allowed to leave this sector intact.” A few seconds later, the siren sounded for full deployment. Wheeler turned on his heel and headed for his ready room.
“Kyle,” he said to his first mate. “You have the bridge. If we fail down there, blow it to smithereens.” The first mate nodded and wheeled his chair into place, initiating its docking clamps. Alex continued into his ready room and opened his locker. Pulling out his combat vest, he fastened it and checked that it was secure, before removing his light machine gun and loading it with ammunition. Satisfied that he was battle ready, he walked out of the ready room and descended into the bowels of the Haemonculus and into the dropship bay.
The Haemonculus was the only TSA ship still using dropships, but this wasn’t out of a love of the old ways. Every mission that the Decimators were attached to were missions where the Kharaa had already heavily infested the area. Phasing in was too much of a hazard, as they could be ambushed and ripped to shreds before they had secured their location.
“Are we ready for deployment?” Wheeler asked O’Hara.
“Yes, sir, all of the men are ready and one hundred percent combat ready,” the Irishman affirmed. Wheeler nodded. The joviality was gone from O’Hara’s voice now, in the face of combat with the Kharaa. It was only then that Wheeler noticed the endorphin deployment apparatus attached to O’Hara’s arm.
“I know you don’t approve, sir, but I want to test it out. Besides, I’m angry enough as it is, I doubt that it will make much difference,” O’Hara said, following Wheeler’s gaze. Alex merely snorted.
“It’s your body, O’Hara,” he said, checking his light machine gun. O’Hara merely grinned. In addition to being the TSA’s Suicide Squad, they were regularly made to be TSA’s guinea pigs.
“Thank you, sir,” O’Hara said. The Decimators were loading up into the dropships now, two hundred and fifty Marines preparing for what could be the fight of their lives.
<!--emo&:)--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='smile.gif'><!--endemo-->
I will get down to the nitty gritty in the next chapter.